Unaffected
by falln-angl
Summary: Of what could been, and what could be. But what never is.
1. Miranda

**Title: **Unaffected (1/2)  
**Rating: **G  
**Summary: **Of what could been, and what could be. But what never is.  
**Type of fic: **Vignettes  
**Disclaimer: **Miranda, Gordo, and all _Lizzie McGuire_ related stuff belongs to Disney and…whoever else has rights to them.  
**Author's notes:** Just a little ditty. You gotta love the possibilities of "fanfiction". Also, I read somewhere that Miranda actually came into the picture much earlier than third grade, but for some reason I'm thinking third grade.  
**AN repost: ** Because I am a total idiot, I have decided to repost the fic with the correct spelling of Ethan's last name. I realise I added the second chapter to this and _still_ had the old spelling. I blame five hours of sleep in almost two days.

**-**

Miranda

The first time I saw him, I knew that I loved him. It was my first day in third grade at a new school, and I was assigned the desk beside him. I looked at the boy the teacher pointed to ("You can sit over there, next to David"), and he smiled at me. Though we had been living in Hillridge for over three months by then, that moment was the first time I felt at home.

It was at lunchtime when Lizzie McGuire asked me to join her and her friends. Eager to make new friends on my first day, I had happily agreed. And so I met Kate. And I met David. He told me to call him "Gordo", because it was what all of his friends called him. I met Gordo. And I loved him in that innocent and unreserved way an eight-year-old loves.

It didn't take long for Lizzie and I to become bestfriends. I treasured that word - "bestfriend". It made me feel special. And I had other friends. There was Kate, and there was Gordo. The four of us were always together, always on the same team.

And then came junior high, and four became three. Kate found that, with two bumpy things on her chest, came social status. It was strange at first. Lizzie and I considered the other our bestfriend, and Gordo was always referred to as "friend". I realised that Gordo and I never really developed a friendship that was just ours alone. It was the three of us; or Gordo and Lizzie; or Lizzie and Miranda. It was never Gordo and Miranda.

That knowledge made me sad, and I vowed that I would change it. The problem was that I did not know Gordo. I knew the Gordo that was the boy Lizzie had known since she was a day old, but not David Gordon. And so as our first year of junior high progressed I made an effort to get to know this boy I loved for so long.

And that was when I fell _in_ love. Quirky became adorable. Annoyances became endearments. And friend became…

That was when I discovered that Gordo was in love with Lizzie.

And so I made myself believe that it wasn't to be. Hard as it was, I made myself forget. Instead, I teased him about Lizzie. And I encouraged him. The pleasure of being Gordo's friend was enough for me. I was happy with the fact that I was able to call Gordo, talk to Gordo, hang with Gordo, without Lizzie to bind us.

And then came high school, and three became two. Gordo finally admitted his feelings for Lizzie, and they became the quintessential couple. As hard as we all tried to fight it, the Three Musketeers eventually broke down. They included me as much as they could but I was the inescapable third wheel. They even tried setting me up on dates so that we could double date. It never seemed to work out.

By the end of our freshman year, I drifted from the couple. We still greeted each other in the hallway, we even occasionally had lunch together. But it was never the same again. That summer break I returned to Mexico. I called Lizzie once, and Gordo called me once. Both calls were in the first week. I didn't talk to either of them again until the start of our sophomore year. I found new friends. It was never quite the same.

Directly after high school I left Hillridge for New York. The bright lights and the joie de vivre of the city beckoned with promise of new opportunities. And a new start.

The last person I ever expected to bump into was Ethan Craft.

_The _Ethan Craft. Part-time model, part-time artist. It seems Ethan's gift was discovered in junior year. A wonderful ability to create extraordinary beauty on canvas. Not that any of us had known of it. Ethan left Hillridge after our sophomore year. He had left, and barely an eyebrow was raised. Though Ethan was _the_ man in junior high, he became only one of countless in high school. Halfway through our first month as juniors, I suddenly became aware that Ethan had disappeared. And that had been that.

Until New York. An impulsive afternoon coffee with Ethan soon turned into another. And another. And another. Finally, a date.

The weeks, the months, flew by in a flurry of roses, champagne, dinners. Romance. With each passing day Ethan taught me a little more about life, about laughter. About living with both arms wide open. About not regretting lost chances but seizing new opportunities.

Then, one day, it dawned on me. The sun had risen, had set, had risen once more – and Gordo had not crossed my mind.

I found that it was possible to fall in love again.

**end part one.**


	2. Gordo

**Title: **Unaffected (2/2)  
**Rating: **G  
**Summary: **Of what could been, and what could be. But what never is.  
**Type of fic: **Vignettes  
**Disclaimer: **Miranda, Gordo, and all _Lizzie McGuire_ related stuff belongs to Disney and…whoever else has rights to them.  
**Author's notes:** Just a little ditty. You gotta love the possibilities of "fanfiction". Also, I read somewhere that Miranda actually came into the picture much earlier than third grade, but for some reason I'm thinking third grade.

**-**

Gordo

We had always assumed that nothing would ever change. That we would always be friends. Even when four became three, our certainty never faltered. It had been slightly dented, certainly, but we held forcefully onto it. We would be friends forever. We would grow old together, and no matter what happened, we would always - always - stay friends.

Childhood beliefs crumble so easily.

A few years after our fervent vows, three became two. But I can't really blame Miranda. After all, she wasn't the one who was excluding us. She wasn't the one who made up excuses, continually lied, for three to become two, if only for a couple of hours. We tried to include her. To even help her find her soul mate, because we wanted her to be as happy as we were. It never seemed to work out.

Slowly, Miranda drifted from us. And I didn't even notice.

I called her one day, hoping she would join me to watch the latest movie I found in a store. Miranda was the only one I knew who shared my interest in foreign films, and who insisted on watching them with the original audio and the subtitles turned on. Her mother had answered the phone, had apologised and said that Miranda wasn't home. That Miranda had gone to Mexico for the summer. Mrs Sanchez had sounded surprised that I did not know this seemingly obvious piece of information. That realisation had greatly saddened me, and I vowed that I would double my efforts during our sophomore year.

The summer holidays seemed to have stretched much longer than usual that year, and by the time the second year of high school started my vow had become a long-forgotten memory. Before I knew it, Miranda had all but left my mind. She was just another face - familiar, yet mysterious - in the crowd, though one that never failed to bring a smile to my own. She reminded me of another time, of innocence and simplicity.

And then came the day after graduation. Miranda came to my house. The last time had been sometime during the middle of our freshman year. She said she came by just to say "goodbye". She was leaving Hillridge. She never did tell me where. In my shock, I never even thought to ask.

That night, for the first time ever, Lizzie and I talked of nothing but Miranda. She had applied, and been accepted, into New York's most prestigious design college. She hadn't just left Hillridge for school, but for good. Miranda was making New York her new home.

But I had my own future to consider, and with much effort, I managed to push Miranda aside. And there was Lizzie. She wanted to travel Europe, return to Rome. I was offered a rare scholarship at the American Film Institute. Though life seemed to be tugging us apart, we vowed that we would do all we could to stay together. We loved each other. One day, we would marry, would have children, successful careers.

Such idealistic pledges are always made without the benefit of time.

It seemed almost inevitable, really. Europe charmed Lizzie. She met new people, had exciting, once-in-a-lifetime encounters. She spoke non-stop of her countless experiences, but she didn't seem to understand my lack of enthusiasm. She was living life, and she was enjoying it – without me. Lizzie was fine without me.

And I was fine without her.

Not meaning to, Lizzie and I had reverted to "just friends". Soon, our daily calls became a few times a week, twice a week. Once a week. Once a month. And though I missed her greatly, it was not with the fervour of one in love. I missed her with the affectionate fondness of close friends, nothing more.

As Lizzie faded from my thoughts, another took her place. One whom I'd ignored for far too long. But now it was impossible to push her away. The mere memory of her kept me company through countless nights and days.

Miranda.

I could not get her out of my mind.

I never realised how much it hurt that I lost Miranda's friendship. During high school I always consoled myself that she was still around, that if I wanted to, I could always pick up the phone and talk to her. Or just look for her at lunch time, and she would be there. I had taken her for granted, and with that disheartening realisation I grew introspective. I thought more of what had been, what I had not recognised. What I had failed to see before it was too late.

Though I was with the one I loved, something was always missing. A little part that not even Lizzie could seem to fill. When Miranda left Hillridge, the missing part grew to an almost palpable ache. But, as had been my recurrent error, I ignored it.

As the months passed, I continually vowed to myself that I would visit her. The woman who may have said "goodbye", but who still has to leave me. Yet, something always seemed to stop me. An exam to study for. A paper to write. An unmissable meeting with a professor. No money. A family visit. All empty, pathetic promises.

Until one day I found that I had no more excuses. And so I bought a plane ticket to New York. The very morning of my flight I received a letter from Miranda. An explanation of why, with the letter, she had also sent me a wedding invitation.

_You are cordially invited to attend the wedding ceremony of Ethan Daniel Craft and Miranda Isabelle Sanchez._

And that was when I finally understood how much I had truly lost. Miranda's passion. Miranda's beauty. Miranda's laughter. Miranda's smile. Miranda's friendship.

Miranda.

I learnt that it was true, what they say. That you never realise what you have until it's lost.

One lesson I wish to have never discovered.

**end part 2.**

**end.**


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